Angels in the Gloom_ A Novel - Anne Perry [66]
Joseph was startled. It had never crossed his mind to regard Hallam Kerr as other than the kind of man who adopts the church as an occupation because he isn’t adequate to make a respectable living at any other profession. It would offer him the kind of security and social standing to which his family might well be accustomed. The fact that he was totally unsuited for it may only have become apparent after he was ordained.
“Not naturally gifted,” Perth observed wryly.
Joseph caught a flash of humor in his eyes. “No,” he agreed. “Not at all.”
“And no wife to help him, either,” Perth added. “Is that customary?”
“Not for a parish, no. But then wartime isn’t usual. The previous vicar went to Birmingham, I believe. More to do than here. And now his curate’s gone to London.” Was it even conceivable that Kerr was not the ass he appeared, but something far more sinister? It was a startlingly chilling thought because it was so unexpected.
“You’ve been a priest, Captain. In a way you still are. What’s your opinion, sir? Is Hallam Kerr good?”
Joseph was embarrassed now. Kerr irritated him, but part of that very irritation was because he was sorry for the man. Pity was an acutely uncomfortable feeling.
“He’s inadequate,” Joseph replied finally. “But what can you say or do for those you visit who are faced with unbearable suffering? Who can explain God to someone who has just lost everything they care about in a way that seems totally senseless? One shouldn’t hold Kerr accountable for his inadequacies.”
Perth shook his head. “Isn’t it a matter of degree, Captain Reavley? You can’t help it all, just some of it. Have the courage at least to look at it square, and not tell people lies, or speak to them in quotes.”
That was more perceptive than Joseph had expected and it took him aback. “Yes,” he agreed quickly. “And Kerr has a lot to learn yet, but that doesn’t mean to say he won’t.”
“No, sir, I dare say not. All the same, I think I’d like to find out a bit more about him. Where he’s from, and where he trained for the ministry, things like that. Did he know Mr. Blaine, do you know?”
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe you could find out, sir, without putting the wind up him, like? I’d be greatly obliged.”
In the event, Joseph was prevented from deciding when to go and see Kerr, or how to explain his visit. That evening Kerr arrived at the front door and Hannah had no acceptable alternative but to show him in to the sitting room where Joseph had been reading.
“Don’t stand up!” Kerr said quickly, holding out his hand as if to keep Joseph in his seat by force. He looked harassed and frightened. There were shadows around his eyes and a tightness in his mouth. In the morning he had probably parted his hair in the middle and plastered it down with water, but now it was dry and poked up in spikes.
“Sit down, Reverend,” Joseph invited, trying to sound at least reasonably welcoming. The man was obviously in some distress. “How are you?”
Hannah drew in her breath to offer him tea, but he was already oblivious of her. She withdrew, closing the door behind her. With a sinking heart, Joseph knew that she would not interrupt them.
“This is terrible,” Kerr replied, sitting down wearily in the chair opposite Joseph. “In a way it’s worse than war. It’s the ultimate enemy, isn’t it? Fear, suspicion, everyone imagining the worst. We aren’t united anymore. Or weren’t we ever? Was it only a comfortable delusion?”
Joseph could not find the energy to argue with him, but Perth’s words came back with a darkness that seemed more intense now. Was it really possible Kerr was a German agent or sympathizer?
“What’s happened?” he asked. In the end that was the question that mattered.
Kerr leaned forward in the chair. “One of my parishioners—I can’t